Sir Logan? Faith didn’t know that Logan’s father had been knighted—or that the two men shared the same Christian name.
Jeanne moved passed the footman just as a short, blond-haired woman appeared in the hallway several yards away.
“Jeanne? Is that you?”
“Arabella, dear, we were caught in the storm and are soaked all the way through. Might we press upon you to borrow some clothes before we catch our deaths?”
“Oh, my goodness, of course. Of course,” she said, coming forward. With a slight curtsy, she acknowledged Faith. “An unfortunate circumstance to meet under, I’m afraid. I’m Miss Arabella Harris.”
“Miss Faith… Faith… Achoo!”
“Oh dear, there’s no time for that. Follow me. Morgan?”
“Yes, my lady?”
“Tell the maids to come at once and have the footmen bring hot water to the floral guest rooms. Have them gather my warmest gowns and have cook prepare something warm for ourguests. Follow me,” she said as Jeanne came up to her side. “The floral guest rooms each have a standing bath, though I’m sure hot tub would be best for both of you.”
Faith had never seen a standing bath but had heard about them.
“I’m sure I am… am…fine—Achoo!”
Jeanne peered over her shoulder.
“Oh yes, you sound quite well,” she said sarcastically. “Graham is going to have me quartered if you come down with a cold.”
Faith wanted to argue that there was no reason to worry, as she had a strong constitution, but fevers were not to be taken lightly, and the chill in her body seemed to emanate from within. The sooner she was in a bath, the better.
The style of the home was rather fitting, considering its outward appearance. The second-floor hallways were painted emerald green and lined with dark-paneling chair rails. Faith followed the others as they took a left upon the landing and entered the second room on the right. White wallpaper adorned with dozens of types of blooms hung from the walls. Shiny, pale-wood furniture with white-and-green bedding gave the room a delicate springtime atmosphere, and though she was dripping wet, Faith felt instantly warmer.
“You undress here,” Arabella said, turning. “Jeanne? Follow me.”
Faith nodded as two maids came in to help her undress. Within minutes, a bath had been prepared in an adjoining room designed solely for bathing. Faith glanced around the tiled room, amazed. She had never seen a room like this, with copper pipes and ceramic knobs fitted over a white bathtub permanently fixed to the floor.
“In you go, miss,” the maid said as Faith stepped into the nearly filled bath.
Hot water surrounded her, sinking deep into her soul as Faith closed her eyes. She dipped her head back and tried to shake all the cold from her. The maids left her with a sliver of soap, and she worked it into a lather. She scrubbed her body as best she could, hoping to remove any remnants of a chill. After nearly half an hour, she found that she still couldn’t quite warm herself and decided to dress.
A pale-pink day gown, lined with gray trim had been laid out for her to borrow. She dressed slowly, with one of the maid’s help. It was too short, as it showed her ankles, but Faith was grateful to be clad in something dry. Thankfully she had also been provided with thick wool stockings and a heavy gray-and-purple plaid shawl. Her hair was combed out, parted, and plaited, then wrapped around together to form an interlocking half circle at the back of her neck.
A gentle knock at the door revealed Arabella, followed by another maid who held a tray. The scent of beef and vegetable stew filled Faith’s senses, and her mouth began to water. She hadn’t realized just how hungry being cold had made her.
“How are you faring, Miss Sharpe?” she asked, motioning for the maid to place the tray on a small, bird’s-eye maple table before a large window overlooking the northern woods.
“Very well, thank you,” Faith said. “And please, call me Faith.”
“Only if you call me Arabella,” she said with a cheerful smile. “I must admit, I had hoped to meet you sooner. I have met one of your sisters, Hope. But I understand you were in Italy with your aunt for the past six months. Is that correct?”
That was true. Faith had just returned to Scotland a few weeks ago. She, Grace, and Aunt Belle had traveled to Rome to visit with famed Italian surgeon, Dr. Ramaglia, in an effort to address Belle’s failing health. Thankfully, Dr. Ramaglia had some knowledge of what had ailed her and had saved Belle’s lifeby performing a rather risky procedure. Grace had apprenticed with the doctor during their trip, which left Faith to care for Belle in her recovery.
“Yes. My younger sister Grace and I attended to Aunt Belle during her stay there. She had an operation.”
“Did she?” Arabella asked, leaning forward. “How very interesting.”
A pause followed. Faith wasn’t sure why the young woman was staring at her so intently. She cleared her throat.
“Thank you so much for letting us invade your home,” Faith said, hoping to break the tension.
“Oh, of course, of course,” she said, shaking her head. “Goodness, you must think I have terrible manners. It’s just… You’re nothing like how I imagined you would be.”
